[Pride In Horror Month] - Representation Matters

Okay, here’s something important, something I think many people are aware of but just in case you’re not aware of it: representation is important. Our lives are not just made up of one kind of person, but representation doesn’t mean jack shit if it includes shitting on another marginalised class. 

Also important to note is that being an ally should not be conditional. If you are only an ally when you feel comfortable, when it is convenient to you, you are not an ally. If your reaction to “white people need to get their shit together” or “fuck cis people” or “men are pigs” is to go “You’ve insulted me so I will no longer support your cause”, you’re an arsehole, and you were never an ally.

And I say that as a white cis woman. 

On a personal level, I am trying to do better with my own writing. I am trying to be more inclusive. I fully believe characters, at least in some part, reflect the writer themselves. And through writing we can really discover how we see the world. A lot of my characters are bisexual women. Yet it was only the last year or so where I actually asked myself, am I straight? Where I realised I am not just attracted to men. (My boyfriend was not at all surprised when I mentioned it to him.)

But here’s the thing. Bisexuality was never something I really saw portrayed. And if it was, it was in a negative way. When I was a teenager, and went to a lot of gigs, at a particular under-18 event that took place every month, there were always girls kissing in front of the stage. And the comments would inevitably be that they were looking for attention. When I was a teenager, I knew a lot of girls who had kissed other girls, yet they always said they were just experimenting. Or others, again, said they did it for attention. It was never just, oh yeah, they like boys and girls. 

That kind of thinking has a way of burying into your head. You either liked boys or girls. And things become rationalised. Just because I liked the kiss with my friend doesn’t mean I like my gorgeous friend. I’ve always thought women were beautiful, but that didn’t mean I was attracted to women. Did it?

Then something happened. We grew up, and more and more women my age came out as bisexual. They dated men and women, or even like me dated men but said they liked women, too. And a lot of that is the way the media we consume has changed. We see more representation. We see more women in stronger roles, as well as seeing different types of relationships on screen. And horror has always seemed to quietly be at the forefront of that. 

And if you’re going to write horror, it’s important to try and continue that tradition. I’m not saying your work should be a rainbow of diversity, and please for the love of Pennywise do not take characters and just change their names so you can go “Oh look! I’m being diverse!” What I mean is to consider the world around you. Consider who might be reading your work and who might need to see themselves reflected. And if you do have a character outside the scope of your own experience, do your research. Get sensitivity readers. Really consider how you are portraying race or sexuality. Don’t fall into stereotypes. If you’re a man writing female characters, make sure they don’t just fall into the virgin/whore trope.

Which brings me onto two vastly different short story collections. One is a single-author collection, the other an anthology with a variety of different voices. This means by design they are going to be very different – different voices, different stories, different levels of representation. But the short story is an interesting form, and a single author collection really allows you to see different levels of a writer’s abilities.

A while ago, I reviewed Cirques des Freaks and Other Tales of Horror on here. The first thing that struck me in reading the book was that the stories don’t really fit with horror. Most are more along the lines of doomed love paranormal romance. Which could have worked really well. All the central characters are gay men, and again, this is something which really could have been great. Unfortunately, other elements of the book meant as a whole, this collection fell flat.

Any female characters we come across are not represented well. They’re either matronly figures, or they’re present as victims. And even with the main characters, they’re all so much the same they feel interchangeable. There is little that actually defines them, little to make the reader actually care about what happens to them. 

As for the plots of the stories – I like when tropes are taken and twisted, I like retellings. Some of my favourite books recently have been retellings. But some of these stories – two in particular – feel like the plots have been ripped straight from two particular films. 

Firstly, one story has a plot ripped straight out of the 1988 film Waxwork. But the title story feels like it’s either taken from Tod Browning’s 1932 black and white Freaks, or American Horror Story: Freakshow. I touch upon this more in my actual review, but I think it’s important to note again. So-called ‘freaks’ way back when these shows were popular tended to be people with disabilities, with medical conditions the public didn’t understand or who looked different than the average person. Because people are cruel and ignorant. There’s a reason why if you look at modern-day circuses, any ‘freaks’ will be people who have chosen to adapt their own bodies with piercings and tattoos or other modifications. They choose to change themselves, and choose that life, rather than having it as the only option available to them.

I get why circuses – and freakshows in particular – are so alluring to horror writers. Even with just clowns they’re creepy, throw in some snakes and perhaps a strongman who can crush you and yeah, fertile gardens for this genre. But if a writer is going to use these elements, my biggest suggestion would be to refrain from using slurs to describe the so-called ‘freaks’. Whatever elements of representation you have can be damaged when, as in this example, the story takes on a very ableist tone. Not helped by the fact the ‘twist’ at the end of the story is that the freaks are the way they are because they have become the thing they’re most scared of. To me, this feels very much like the idea someone is disabled because they ‘did something awful in a past life’. 

My point being, we need more representation, across the board. We need more people writing about a variety of people. We need more #ownvoices, yes, but we also need people to realise when they are writing outside their own personal experiences, they should do so with respect. They should research, get sensitivity readers, and ensure the representation is accurate, not relying on stereotypes.

Which brings me to one of the best anthologies I have ever read. Black Rainbow was among the first books I read for Dead Head Reviews. It arrived among a slew of e-mails with a mixture of books. I didn’t even know what it was when I opened up the file on my Kindle, but I soon knew what I held in my hands was absolutely brilliant.

Black Rainbow is an anthology of LGBTQ+ horror. And in terms of representation, it covers everything. This is partly because, as an anthology, the stories are written by a varied group of people. Many of the stories are #ownvoices. And where other characters are included, it’s clear the authors have strived to make the representation of these characters as accurate and respectful as possible. 

The stories in Black Rainbow are about different people, from different cultures, with different races, sexualities, genders, backgrounds, and disabilities. Yet in many cases, the point of the story isn’t the things that separate them from the ‘default’. It may play into it, but it is not the point. They simply exist, as people simply exist.

Something I have noticed in my reading is the further away from cis, white, straight man someone is, the better their representation of people different from them. And yet cis, white writers will be the first to say they won’t write outside their perspective because they’re scared of being attacked, or if they do, they tend to not engage with the cultures or people they’re writing about. Yet others – including cis, white, straight men – show that it can be done. It is possible, and it is something everyone should strive towards.

Our worlds are not just made up of white, straight, cis people. And often, we don’t know how people might differ from our own perspective. We should be more conscious of this. Until this article, only a handful of people were aware of my sexuality. No one (except my boyfriend) who I know in real life are aware of it. Because, until fairly recently, I wasn’t conscious of it either. Hell, I could write the same amount of words just about my journey and the moments I look back on with realisation. But the point here being why, then, do us writers populate our stories with people just like us?

Look, it’s easy to get caught up in the idea you shouldn’t write people outside your experience because you’ve seen others called out for it on social media. But the truth being, when you dig hard enough, you’ll see plenty of people explaining it’s not about ‘not writing outside your experience’. It’s about how it’s handled. Everyone makes mistakes, and in the age of social media, you’ll likely be called out on them. But it’s important not to become defensive if you are. Listen, instead. Try to understand. Talk to your friends, and get friends who will tell you if something you’ve written is harmful. Employ sensitivity readers. And if you’re in a privileged position, use that privilege to promote own voices work as well as your own. 

Do your research. Be respectful. Listen. There’s not much else more we can do, except to admit when we’ve made a mistake and try to do better next time, and help others see themselves reflected in media, including in our own work, whatever your own experiences are

By Elle Turpitt

Elle Turpitt is a writer and editor living in South Wales. As well as being Head Copy Editor for Dead Head Reviews, she has had her short fiction published in various anthologies, including three volumes of Seven Deadly Sins: A YA Anthology, and in releases put out by Fantasia Divinity. Her work has also appeared online, on CommuterLit, Page & Spine, and The Abyss.

More information can be found about Elle at elleturpitt.com, or on Twitter, @elleturpitt.